Family Dreams
by hairymclary
Summary: AU. Lord Voldemort captures Hermione Granger in the final battle, and is struck by sudden memories. Chap 1... Voldy's PoV. Chap 2... Hermione's PoV. Twoshot. Mild T, I suppose.
1. Chapter 1: Dreaming of Mother

Dreaming of Mother

**Disclaimer: Well, it's here, isn't it?

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Potter's mudblood friend, standing in front of the gravestone, challenging me to do my worst. The unearthly glow of an Anti-Apparition charm from the inside, visible for miles around. My wand hand, bloodless and, for some unknown reason, shaking. The Riddle House, towering above me, its shadow looming malevolently. My father's gravestone, the place where I recovered my body.

Memories attacking me, no mercy available.

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"_He's a strange boy, sure enough," Mrs Cole had said, once. "Rarely cried as a baby, and now… well."_

_Tom, listening at the door, could almost hear her shrug. This family might have adopted her, if she hadn't started blabbing. Thanks to Mrs Cole, he was now condemned to another year of Hell. At least another year._

_Tom nearly wept. He wasn't the kind of boy who burst into tears at every opportunity, but this was bringing him close to the limit. Frustration and hatred had been building up in him for years, as the older children teased him and the younger children avoided him like, as the cliché went, the plague. Tom, a lonely boy at the best of times, had needed to come up with a solution, and he had._

"_What was my mother like?" he had once asked Mrs Cole._

"_She had brown hair. She was young. I think her name was Merope, or something."_

_From this vague description, Tom had succeeded in building a picture of his mother. Her voice was gentle and soft, her hair a rather wild bushy brown. Her eyes were brown too, and she had pale skin She was good at magic and both looked and sounded intelligent. She was sympathetic and patient and didn't mind listening to Tom's problems. She was optimistic, but she had a stubborn streak. She was resourceful and never gave up. She was, in fact, a dream mother._

_And so, whenever Tom felt ready to give up, he took it to his mother. She always reassured him, encouraged him, told him he was special. She was wonderful._

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The mudblood, Granger, glaring at me. Her bushy hair escaping from the clumsy bun she has tied it in, her eyes flashing, and her face deathly white. A thin trickle of blood dribbling down her face.

My wand is raised, but I can't cast at her. Not when she is a living, breathing replica of my dream mother.

And, apart from that, Potter is charging at me, face twisted and red in total hatred.

**

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AN: Part 1 complete! What do you think? Part 2 is Hermione's PoV. There's flashbacks in it, too.**


	2. Chapter 2: Lost Little Boy

Lost Little Boy

**Disclaimer: See chapter 1**

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I need to tell someone. If I don't, I'll collapse.

I can't tell Ron. He took it badly enough when he found out who Ginny was going out with in our fifth year.

I can't tell Harry.

My parents wouldn't understand.

Remus' time is taken up with Tonks.

Ginny-

Ginny. She would understand. She was possessed by him, for goodness sake. Of course she'll understand. Anyway, she's an understanding person. And who else can I trust with this? Definitely not Ron. He would probably have a heart-attack or something.

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So… Ginny. Here she is. Sitting in front of me, looking curious and pzzled.

I can't speak. I gesture at the pensieve, the one that used to be Dumbledore's, helplessly. She follows my gaze, realises what I mean, and takes my hand as we each dive into my memory.

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_I'm surrounded by Death Eaters and facing Voldemort. Voldemort is gazing through me, but certainly not at me. The Death Eaters are tense, hands twitching towards wands and eyes darting everywhere._

_Voldemort looks up briefly, and I see it. Then my view is obscured by Harry._

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"Did you see it?" I ask Ginny, once out of the pensieve. "Did you see Voldemort, just before Harry did his mad, heroic bit? Did you see his expression?"

Ginny nods. Her face has a pastelly, shell-shocked look.

"He looked helpless and lost, like a little boy."

I don't ask her whether she heard what he said. I don't want to know.

I did. Even the first time round, before Harry, very stupidly, dived on top of him, I heard him whisper it. It was directed at me, and I wish it wasn't, but I know it was.

In that single moment, when I saw the boy he had been, the man he could have been, I loved hi. Loved him! I don't know why. I don't know what came over me, but when I heard that whisper, I loved him.

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"_Mother?"_**

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AN: When she says Voldy's staring through her, she means both her past and present selves. He's a bit distracted with his thoughts at that point.**

**So, how was it?**


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